Buffy: The Vampire Slayer "Darksword"
by ASDF0716
Summary: What do you do when the only thing that can keep you alive wants you dead?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Buffy: the vampire slayer and all the characters and places here-in (to include Sunnydale and the city of Los Angeles *smile*) are owned by Joss Whedon and friends. I'm sure Joss devoted much time and energy into creating said characters and I in no way wish to steal or deprive him of any rights, there-of. I only wish to bask in the success which he has obtained by enriching our lives and making us strive to be better people for humanity… In other words, don't sue.  
  
………………………………………………..  
  
  
  
ANGEL: I'm leaving. After the Ascension, after it's finished with the Mayor and Faith. If we survive, I'll go.  
  
Previously, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer…  
  
JOYCE: Buffy? If you're going out, why don't you take your sister?  
  
Shot of Buffy and Dawn looking annoyed in Joyce's direction.  
  
Buffy and Dawn (in unison): Mom!  
  
MONK: The key is energy.  
  
BUFFY: Dawn.  
  
RILEY VOICEOVER: Buffy's like nobody else in the world. But she doesn't love me.  
  
Riley talking to Buffy.  
  
RILEY: They want me back, Buffy.  
  
BUFFY: Are you going?  
  
RILEY: I don't know. If we can't work this out...  
  
BUFFY: This is goodbye?  
  
Riley in the helicopter lifting off.  
  
Buffy yelling up at the helicopter.  
  
BUFFY: Riley!  
  
Buffy watching the helicopter fly away.  
  
BUFFY: Just tell me what kind of demon I'm fighting.  
  
QUINTON TRAVERS: Glory isn't a demon.  
  
BUFFY: What is she?  
  
TRAVERS: She's a god.  
  
  
  
Buffy: The Vampire Slayer  
  
"Darksword"  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
He couldn't even remember how long he'd been chasing her. It had been the scent, the unmistakable smell of everything that was her that had first caught his attention. From the shampoo she used, the smell of her sweat, the body soap that smelled like spring flowers. He knew them all by heart. But…something was wrong. He knew something wasn't right, because mixed in with her scent was something he wasn't used to sensing. Not in her…  
  
Fear.  
  
She was afraid. Of what, he couldn't say. At first, it had appeared that she was chasing something, and then he felt the terror. Her terror. It had slammed into him with a force, a life, of its own, and, in an instant, he realized, the hunter had become the hunted. The hurt he felt coursing through her veins had been enough to nearly knock him from his feet.. So he had called out to her. He had called and she hadn't answered. What was she doing in Los Angeles? And why had it brought her to him? All of these questions and more raced through his mind as he ran down the alley after her. He had to know.  
  
The alley was littered with debris and dirt. A large, overflowing dumpster aged on the left side of the alley, while rotten cardboard boxes, wet with rain and torn and smashed by age and time, lined his right. He barely noticed as he raced after her. As he made his way down, deeper into the alley, her presence began to fade. He couldn't see her, he couldn't hear her, and, finally, he could no longer smell her. He had lost her.  
  
He turned to leave, only to be confronted by an old man, wrapped in a torn and dirty overcoat and reeking of liquor. The homeless man smiled up at him through crooked, yellow teeth and chuckled without humor.  
  
"What's your hurry, son? Can't you spare something for an old veteran?" He stuck his hands in his pockets, searching for something to give the old man. Nothing.  
  
"Look," he began, looking back over his shoulder towards where she had gone. "I don't have anything on me right now, but I could help you find a place to stay the night. Maybe, get a bite to eat?" He never heard the old man answered, or if he even had, because behind him, lost in the shadows, he heard her call to him.  
  
"Help me, Angel. If you ever loved me, help me. Save me." He turned around to once again face the old man and saw it.  
  
The figure was shrouded in darkness, standing right behind the homeless man, a sword raised over its head. As the sword came crashing down, Angel lashed out, throwing the homeless man to the side and grabbing the figures hands at the wrist. He twisted its arms to the side, spun it around and in one swift motion, released its wrists, reached up and with both hands, snapped its neck. The body went limp in his arms and he heard the sword clatter to the ground. He could still hear her behind him, pleading for help. He let go, turned and ran. Behind him, he heard the man begin to get to his feet and the last thing he could make out before he disappeared into the night was the old man's crackly old voice.  
  
"God bless you, son! I'll pray for your soul!"  
  
Angel slid to a halt as the alley ended abruptly. The light! The light was too intense. He could still hear her words echoing against the stone walls.  
  
"Angel, please! If I was ever truly yours, help me! Save me!" He made up his mind to jump in that second. Whatever was beyond that light, they would face together. He moved to do it, but felt a hand restraining him. His first instinct was that he hadn't killed the creature enough and he spun around prepared to finish the job. His eyes widened in shock.  
  
She was standing there. She had the sword in her hand and the old man's blood dripped down its silver blade. He could see her head lulled slightly to one side where he had snapped her neck. She looked at the sword for only a second before turning her gaze to Angel.  
  
"You killed me, Angel."  
  
It was her. He was sure of it. He could see her clearly now. How could this be? He looked over his shoulder. The light was still there. He could still hear her calling to him, asking him to save her.  
  
"Buffy?" She smiled an evil, knowing smile as he looked deep into her eyes. They were dark and hollow. Devoid of all emotion. They reminded him of...  
  
"Faith," she corrected. Angel stumbled backwards a step. She looked at the blade one last time before she took a step and jammed its pristine blade deep into his midsection. He gasped in pain and horror. Images of what had happened before Acathla came rushing back to him, but this was different. A fire swept through his body, torching his soul.  
  
…………………………………………………………………………..  
  
Angel shot up from his bed, his hand gripping his torso in desperation. Beads of sweat rolled down his face in waves, drenching his pillow and sheets. "Buffy!" he gasped.  
  
  
  
Wolf howl. Opening credits. 


	2. Helpless

Chapter One: Helpless  
  
  
  
They should have known better. Living in Sunnydale, growing up among the random disappearances and strange happenings, as they had, they never should have been out at night by themselves, let alone, at night, by themselves, in a graveyard. Yet, here they were.  
  
"Come on, give it back!" the girl pleaded playfully. Her companions, boys she had known all the way through high school, laughed as they tossed her shoe back and forth between them. One of them, a tall, athletic looking boy, caught her shoe and held it out to her teasingly.  
  
"Come on, Tanya," he called. "Come and get it." As she reached for it, he pulled it away and sprinted across the lawn towards a mausoleum.  
  
"Give it back, you dick!" she called to him. The two of them took off after him as he disappeared inside the ancient marble structure. Tanya stopped at the entrance. This was as far as she was willing to go. She turned to her remaining companion. "I-I don't wanna go in there…" She leaned forward slightly, peering into the darkness of the crypt. She pulled her Letter Jacket tight around her to fight the sudden chill that swept over her. It didn't seem to help. "Mark? Please go get him?"  
  
Mark laughed dryly. "Get a grip, Tan. What, are you scared?"  
  
Tanya whirled back around on Mark, glaring at him. This wasn't funny anymore. "No, damn it. I just-I just don't want to go, Mark, Jesus! Please? I want to go home." As she finished the sentence, she looked back inside, searching for her friend.  
  
"Okay," Mark relented. "Fine." He pushed past her and crossed the threshold to the crypt. "Dylan, " he called. No answer. "Yo, Dylan! Come on man, you're freaking Tanya out." He was shrouded in darkness for an instant as the moon ducked behind clouds. It lasted for only a few minutes before it returned and the inside was bathed in a pale white light . "Dylan?"  
  
Silence.  
  
It was large for a mausoleum, and even appeared to have a basement. Mark walked over to the dirty stone steps on the opposite side that wound their way down to, what he guessed to be, some type of cellar. He peered down the stairs as far as he could. A brief flash of movement down the stairs caught his attention, he stepped down a step. "Dylan? You down there, man? Come on, Tanya wants to go home." His answer came from behind him as he felt something grab the back of his jacket and try to push him down the steps followed by something screaming in his ear. Just as he thought he was about to fall, he felt arms wrap themselves around his torso and pull him back to his feet.  
  
"Hahaha," came the familiar voice. "You're as bad as she is, man." Mark took a deep breath to steady himself before punching his friend in the chest.  
  
"She's right. You are a dick."  
  
Dylan shook his head. "Uh-uh. The dick, Mark. The dick. Get it right."  
  
The two friends shared a laugh as Tanya finally worked up enough courage to step inside. "Guys?" she said as she as she approached them. "It's getting late.  
  
Let's go to the Bronze, or something."  
  
"Why? You turn into a pumpkin at midnight?" Dylan taunted. He tossed the missing shoe in her general direction. "Here's you glass slipper, princess." Dylan immediately began making his way back towards the door.  
  
Tanya scoffed. "You're funny." She caught the shoe and quickly returned it to her foot. The three turned to leave, but Mark couldn't help but look back down the stairs. He had seen something down there. Hadn't he? His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw it again. It was only a flutter of movement, but it was enough.  
  
"There's something down there," he hadn't meant to say it. It had just come out. He winced as the words left his mouth because he knew that—  
  
Dylan stopped. He turned back around towards Mark and the stairwell. "Really?" Dylan made it to the stair well in three long steps and began down.  
  
"No. There's nothing there," Mark lied.  
  
"No, come on, Mark. Let's check it out." He made his way down another step.  
  
"It's probably just a rat or something," Tanya offered. "Lets just leave."  
  
Dylan half turned to face her with a coy smile. "If it's a rat, then we have nothing to worry about, do we?" Tanya began to voice another protest, but Dylan only waved her off and continued down.  
  
Mark turned to face Tanya. "I'm sure it's nothing," he reassured. "We'll be back in a second, okay?"  
  
She could only shake her head and mumble "Mmhmm," as he followed Dylan down into the unknown.  
  
  
  
……………………………………………………………  
  
  
  
The scream was loud enough to wake the dead…  
  
Buffy Anne Summers knew that scream. Buffy Anne Summers had been that scream. The first time she had seen a vampire… It seemed like ages ago, now… Still, screams didn't stop who she was and what she did. She was the Slayer…  
  
The one Chosen to have eternal bad days, she thought as she raced towards the center of the graveyard. She hurdled a head stone and ran headlong into the shrieking girl. Buffy wrapped her arms around her to keep them both from falling to the ground and held her before her. Buffy looked her straight in the eyes; she was hyperventilating as she continued to scream. Tears streamed down her face in a rush and she held her right forearm, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood that raced from a gash down the length of her arm.  
  
"Tell me what happened." Buffy tried to keep her voice calm. She had to understand. The things in this world were far too evil for people that didn't know what to expect. Still, she needed answers. "Listen to me. I'm here to help, but I have to know what you saw."  
  
"I-I told them not to go," was all she screamed before her legs gave out and she fell to the ground crying. Buffy let her fall gently to the ground, realizing she was no help in her state and looked off in the direction the girl had run from. The only thing there was a mausoleum.  
  
"Great," she sighed. Buffy tightened her grip on her stake and took off at a dead sprint. She didn't slow down until she reached the entrance. She ran her hand over the cold stone marble of the archway that served as an entrance and looked around. It looked quiet enough. There were no immediate signs of a struggle. Nothing was really even disturbed. As mausoleums went, anyway. She looked down at her feet, squinting to see in the faint moonlight. It didn't take much to make out the blood trail which had splattered its way across the marble floor from the stairwell to the grass outside. In an instant, Buffy was across the crypt, on the stairs and headed down into the unknown.  
  
It was next to impossible to see through the gloom. She could make out three caskets in the center of the large room. Each of the cement coffin's tops had been violently ripped up and tossed aside by something or someone. She moved over to inspect them and finally saw the blood. She had seen so much of it in the past five years, that she no longer had to look away, but it never ceased to revolt her. Her stomach never stopped turning. The torn and tattered corpses of two people lay strewn about the room. An arm here, a leg there, there were places where it was too much of a mass of human flesh to distinguish what had been what.  
  
Just as Buffy was about to go find whatever had done this, she heard it. It was behind her. She spun back around right as it leapt for her. She could only make out a vague form as it sailed through the silence towards her. Thinking quickly, she launched herself into the air, back-flipping over the coffin, landing with cat-like grace behind it. It all happened in the blink of an eye: The creature slammed with incredible force into the stone casket, nearly knocking it over. It hit the ground with a thud, but immediately jumped back onto its feet and started for the Slayer. Buffy hadn't waited for it though, as soon as she had heard the thud of flesh on stone, she was on her feet and heading around the first of the three stone coffins. She came face to face with the creature just as it launched itself towards her again. With controlled ease, she let herself begin to fall back, trusting the fact that the she would not be able to avoid the creature this time. Where the creature would have slammed into her chest, it now found only empty air as Buffy grabbed hold of it, jammed the stake at its midsection, which bounced off the creatures tough skin harmlessly. She used her downward momentum to roll herself head over heels and send the already propelled creature further across the small crypt, sending it smashing into the opposite wall.  
  
The creature slammed against the wall with a sickening thud. It sprawled about on the floor for a split second before again leaping towards Buffy. Instantly, she was on her feet and she whirled back around to face the creature, just in time to raise her foot and kick it square in the chest. As the creature spun backwards from the blow, its tail lashed out, slamming into the Slayers side. Buffy fell to the ground with a grunt before rolling to her right to avoid the pouncing creature which landed on the exact spot she had been. She was back on her feet and she kicked the creature square in the head, sending it flying backwards. Buffy's eyes widened as she saw the claw marks the creature had left in the marble.  
  
"Yikes," she whispered.  
  
It leapt at her again, claws extended and Buffy grabbed its arm in mid-air, and tossed it into the wall behind her. 'You know, you should really get those things checked," she said as she kicked the creatures exposed back. "Cuz.. you just never know who you're gonna hurt," she grunted as she finished the sentence, punching the creature in the head. On the way down, the creatures tail again lashed out, but this time Buffy jumped into the air, avoiding it.  
  
"Nice try," she smiled. She picked up the stake where she had dropped it. "My turn." With the strength of a Slayer, Buffy jabbed downwards towards the base of the creatures neck, intending to sever its spinal column, assuming it had one. The stake again bounced off the creatures olive skin harmlessly. Buffy stared at the stake in disbelieve. "Ohhh," she whined softly, tossing the stake to the floor.  
  
She looked up from the ground just as the creature slammed into her. Together, they flew backwards crashing, yet again, into one of the stone coffins. The casket toppled over with the combined weight of the two combatants and all three tumbled to the floor in a chaotic mass of bones, skin, evil, rotten cloth and…metal? Buffy immediately felt the cold steel against her forearm. How she had managed to keep the creatures claws from her flesh, she didn't know, nor did she give it much thought as she kicked the creature, which had landed on top of her, across the room and was able to scramble to her feet. Her head was dizzy and her vision, blurred as she stood. She could barely make out the sharp edges of the sword at her feet. She shrugged, trying to clear her head. The room started spinning. Slow at first, and then faster.  
  
And faster…  
  
And faster…  
  
It spun so fast Buffy couldn't tell which direction she was facing anymore. It felt like she had been spinning for ages. She could hear the voices, all around her. Jumbled and all together, they collided against her until it became a dull roar in the back of her mind. That, too, seemed to last for an eternity, until, in an instant, it stopped. The world stopped. Her vision cleared to crystal perfection and she clearly saw the creature racing towards her.  
  
This is it, she thought. Game over.  
  
Wield me  
  
The voice was soft, feminine. It reached inside of her mind and pulled at her, gently at first, but, then, again, with increased desperation. She felt the need, the hunger grow. It began to rise up inside of her like a storm, fueling the fire that already burnt deep into her soul. Buffy watched the world move in slow motion. She looked at her hand. It seemed to her that when she moved it, it trailed like a drug sequence in a bad movie.  
  
Wield me, came the voice again. The world kicked into full motion and Buffy was surprised to find the sword that had been at her feet, was now in her hands. Remembering the incident with the stake, she held the sword out before her and cringed, expecting it, too, to slide off of the creatures skin.  
  
It didn't happen at all like she expected.  
  
She felt the sword hit home, felt it push against and then puncture skin, but there was no blood… She didn't remember feeling the creature slam into her, but her body ached from the impact. She was on the floor now, the sword at her side. The creature, however, was nowhere to be found. Groaning, Buffy slowly got to her feet, trying in vane to brush the dust and debris off her ruined halter top and torn blue jeans.  
  
Giles, she though. I've got to get to Giles.  
  
Still woozy, the Slayer made her way back up the way she'd come and back out into the fresh night air. The sword never left her side…  
  
………………………..  
  
"That's all it said? Wield me?" Rupert Giles had his glasses in his hand and was vigorously wiping the lenses with a soft cloth as he spoke. They stood in the kitchen of Giles's small house, the sword was on the table where Buffy had placed it, and they both stood over it, staring at it intently. Buffy made a strange expression with her face as she looked up at him.  
  
"Well, it… started to recite Hamlet, but I stopped it before it…got to the really icky part.." Buffy replied with her usual sarcasm.  
  
Giles only sighed, placing his glasses back on. "Yes, well, certainly, there isn't much that I've found dealing with—with—"  
  
Buffy never heard the rest of Giles's sentence. She had turned her vision back to the blade in front of her, transfixed as her eyes traveled up and down the length of the slender steal. Lost in its depths, the world began to move around her slowly. Giles's voice was a garble in the background before it, too, softened and faded away. There was nothing left but her and the sword. She stared unblinkingly at it. In a flash of light, soft, glowing blue runes appeared on the blade.  
  
An image raced through the Slayer's mind. It was dark and cold and full of dread. She was in an alley, a stake in her hand. She could see the corpse at her feet, but couldn't make out who it was. She looked down; there was blood on her hands.  
  
Lies, it hissed at her. They are all lies!  
  
Buffy jumped back and looked at Giles. "Huh?"  
  
'They are all lies." Giles repeated.  
  
Buffy whirled around to stand completely in front of him, her eyes were wide with surprise. "What?"  
  
"I said: "what little resources we have on sentient swords, stories and- and what-not, won't be very useful. Mostly, they're all lies."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Giles put down the book he had been flipping through and studied his charge. He knew her enough to know the look in her eyes. There was something else. "Buffy, are-are you sure you're feeling alright?" She looked away at him and gave him a small smile.  
  
"Yeah. I guess." She noticed that his gaze has going back and forth from her eyes to her hand and he had a concerned look in his eyes. She looked down at her hand and noticed she was absently running her fingers over the cool steel. She snapped her hand back sharply, like a scolded child. 


End file.
